


fall is just another word for autumn

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angels, Angst, Fallen Angels, M/M, Reincarnation, Torture, Uhm, Well - Freeform, anyway what else, happens at some point, this fic may well be considered blasphemy? probably?, this got out of hand, this isnt as angsty as my usual works tbfh, yet? who knows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 17:07:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19322455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: leaves turn to burnished orange gold, burn up in the flame of their own lifespan.Angels Fall, and they do much the same thing.they burn, at least.this much Draco knew. he had done it before with such gusto, after all. this life he was given was like that, but over and over and over again.





	1. prologue

In the beginning, there was no good and evil, or light and dark, or life and death. No, not quite yet.

In the beginning, there was just Nothing, until there was Something, and that something was Them, God, the Beginning. And first, they made Dark.

(The most common misconception that anyone would tell as truth is that first They made light, but truly, could there be light before darkness? What, then, would make it Light? These were the questions that kept Raziel, the Secretkeeper, up at night - that is to say, if Night existed yet, and if angels slept. But Raziel Knew, because Raziel is Raziel, that the Dark came first.)

Then came Light, of course. But the rest did not happen in a mere week, no.

Humans, you see, perceive time much differently than celestial beings such as They. Humans, if they had existed yet, would move much faster than Them, as they were running on a time limit. God, however, was not; and therefore, They felt no need to rush.

They did, however, feel a need to fill the symphony of silence that accosted Them in the Nowhere, so next They created a Home out of the fabric of the interdimensions They inhabited, and then, they made a Host.

Some of them They sang to life in melodies and harmonies so indescribable that each individual note became a soul. Their first glimpse of the beauty and grace of the Soul moved Them to tears, and these tears too became souls, and they became the Archangels.

And then, something extraordinary happened: God looked away, and They went back about the business of creating Their Universe, and Their newly made angels were left mostly without supervision, which, if you have had any experience with children whatsoever, you would know was a terrible idea. But, in truth, this was a blessing in disguise, as They so often liked to operate, as then the angels were left to listen, learn, and create on their own, so they made themselves in their _own_ image and this, _this,_ dear ones, was the birth of Free Will.

And as the angels watched galaxies blink into existence and beauty take shape in God’s name, they knew that they were not Their most important creation. But they also knew that to each other, they were.

-

Raziel’s existence was not quite as exciting as some of his fellow angels’ were, and he was okay with this. Raziel had a whole space in Heaven to himself, and he was okay with this, too, except when he was there the walls echoed of the Silence that compelled God so sweetly, so _demandingly_ to create angels, because he was almost constantly alone.

He was okay with that. He was, because to _not_ be okay with it would be to envy the others, and that was strictly not allowed.

So, Raziel the Angel was okay with his existence. He enjoyed it, even, sometimes, for he was constantly surrounded by books, and records, and everything Metatron, the Scribe, had ever written. This is because whatever he has written, Raziel has read. He was the Secretkeeper, after all. He was meant to Know _everything._

Of course, that meant that he had read these tomes multiple times over. Infinities of information that he already knew. And it was natural, of course, that every time he finished, he started anew. Of course.

He was not bored, and he was not lonely. It was not written. He was not _supposed_ to be.

The moments (because days _still_ had yet to be invented) that Raziel truly lived for, however, were the times he learned from word of mouth or hum of soul, because that meant that Others had to be in his space and they had to fill the Silence and their voices all were beautiful to his ears like music.

(Except Metatron. Metatron was a little bit condescending, Raziel thought. Probably because most of the things Raziel knew, he did too, only he was God’s trusted scribe, as well.)

(...And also, probably, because he _was_ the Scribe but he _still_ didn’t know everything that Raziel did. His Song buzzed like angry hornets in undertone when he spoke to the Secretkeeper.)

So when the chime to his home plane rung gorgeous melody of an angel singing Presence, he was not _surprised._ He was, however, excited, though this was a secret he hid well. This was not a Song he had ever heard before, so someone new now approached.

But then he saw, and first he saw three pairs of wings glowing like anything - like all the stars and comets and shine danced in them, swirling dust mite _galaxies_ of red-orange gold and cold blue and _green,_ and a little dash of silver, silver like _Raziel,_ and Raziel knew immediately that he was graced with the presence of one of the Seven Tears of the Lord, Lucifer, the Lightbringer, and indeed he brought light to his home of dark corners and secrets and Silence, enough that it bounced off his walls and redoubled and enough that Raziel fell to his knees in wonder and awe.

“Prince.”

“Oh, oh no, please stop. Okay. Um, okay, wow.” he scratched the back of his head, green eyes swiveling from him in embarrassment. “Look, okay, you are the Secretkeeper, are you not?”

He scrambled to his feet, silver blush coating his cheeks and nose. “Yes, yes, that is I. I am Raziel, Secretkeeper. What do you wish to know?”

It is a rarity when angels, especially Archangels, come to him over Metatron as he himself is one of the Tears, but it is always a treat when it does happen.

“No, no, nothing like that really. I-”

“Oh, so you have a secret to seal?” his curiosity was piqued, the trait that earned him this title in the first place - along with his impeccable discretion. (Which, actually, was why he was chosen over Metatron, whose curiosity matched his own and whose wings outranked his by threefold - Metatron was a proud creature, and he touted his knowledge like a badge. Raziel hid within his own like a cloak of invisibility, and he never used it for his own gain. His knowledge rarely saw light.)

“No. No, nothing - forget it, actually, I don’t need anything.”

“No no! I apologize for overstepping bounds, grace, I meant nothing by it,” he chimed in alarm - anything to keep this beautiful creature here and speaking to him, breaking the quiet like so much glass into millions of tiny pieces. “What is it you require?”

“I just… wanted to talk to someone, actually. Someone who won’t go around bragging or being weird about it. Or isn’t one of my siblings.”

Raziel is immediately aware of himself and his earlier actions.

“Oh. Oh! Right then. I can do that. I’m sorry, it’s just - no one really comes to just _talk_. Er, would you - would you like to take a seat?”

“Uh - yeah, that’d be great.” the angel smiled hesitantly, ruffled his feathers back into order. Milky Way galaxy stardust blush connected his... freckles, if that was even the right word, because blue, green, red, _gold_ microstars hung in the milimeters before his face, his cheeks, his nose, trapped in the gravity of him and tied up in his frequencies. Morningstar, indeed; Raziel had never seen anything like it.

“So what do you want to talk about?” Raziel asked as he sat upon a plush cumulus that had been a gift from Them when he was first assigned here; there were two, each facing the other, and they were perfect for sinking in and nesting where secrets were told and whispers hushed. But now was not the time for that. Right now, they were just comfortable. For conversation. Which. Raziel had never _done_ before. But surely it couldn’t be much different from secret confessions and testimonies, right? He was simply supposed to be more active in the process, right? Yes?

“Oh, I-” Lucifer stopped, blinked his bright green trapped-nebula eyes. “I hadn’t gotten quite that far yet, actually.”

Raziel, too, paused in the glory of how _absolutely_ ridiculous that was, and he _laughed,_ truly, for the first time in his long life.

“Okay, then - well - how about this? Have you seen the new galaxy in the 907th quarter yet? It’s beautiful, shines green and silver like anything.”

Lucifer grinned, shifting so slightly that Raziel almost didn’t notice. It was almost a preen. “You like it?”

“It’s gorgeous.”

Lucifer’s smile grew, and it was far brighter than anything Raziel had ever seen.

“I can make you more, if you like.”

-

As no one had ever stopped by Raziel’s den before simply to… chat, or talk, and while no one had ever made him laugh before, just as true was the fact that no one had ever complimented Lucifer’s work without knowing that he, the Lightbringer, was behind it. And this little Seraph’s enthusiasm for it rung achingly genuine in the Song of his soul, and so, too, did his ignorance of its creator, and the Morningstar shone just a little brighter for it.

~~And also, it was more than that, because truly and honestly, the angels outside of his immediate family, outside of the Tears were too afraid to speak to him at all. He was God’s most resplendent son. He was off limits, and he figured, if anyone else was, too, it would be the isolated and estranged Secretkeeper.~~

~~He was correct.~~

After this awkward little flash-in-a-pan start to their friendship, they spoke for hours and hours, and within the day no one had ever known each other as well as the other did. They spilled secrets and song and _soul_ to each other, and while simple day-to-day familiarity was not yet fostered, they Knew one another.

Lucifer came in to speak to the Secretkeeper almost daily, after that.

-

It has been ages and ages since that first fateful meeting of Archangel and his Secretkeeper, and now they fit together like pieces of the puzzle that was God’s great Plan. It was good, better than anything God had ever made, in Raziel’s opinion, which was maybe only a little bit blasphemous. Anyway, point was, they were together almost every time they could be, and Together every time else. And Lucifer was no stranger to stop by unannounced, either, which is where we find our pair now.

“Raziel!” Lucifer laughed as he swooped down from the upper planes of Heaven to Raz’s little bottom sphere. “Raziel, did you see?”

He smiled brightly; Lucifer had only just gotten here and already his existence shone brighter because of it.

“See what, starshine? Make anything new today?”

“No - better still, little shadow. _They_ have.”

He snorted. The Archangels didn’t always get along even in the best of times. “Oh? All your siblings working together, _that_ must’ve been amusing for you.”

“No, no, Raz, you misunderstand. Them. God! They have returned and they are Making again and oh,” he smiled, and it was _beautiful._ “Oh, he made such small little slips, Raz! Humans, they’re called. They’re… a little like us, but they do not fly, and they live on a _planet._ The novelty!”

“They have no wings? Which planet?”

“Terra, actually, just a wing’s flap from here - I’m sure They will be down soon to tell you all about it, honestly. They’ve not even told Metatron about this, but They have a Plan, Raziel, I feel it.”

Excitement fluttered in Raziel’s soul. Something _Godmade_ and _New_ and _Planned -_ there had to be secrets there, and it was like a present for Raziel’s very own. It had been so long since he had been gifted any secret _new._ “Oh- oh my. Wow, okay - ugh, I’m sure that means I will be seeing Metatron _quite_ often these coming times, you know how he gets when he knows I Know something.”

“Oh, poor dear.” he smiled, and it was still goofy with joy, but it softened to meet Raziel’s dismay. He cupped his cheek with his hand, traced the crystal facets his cheekbones were carved of with his thumb.

“Unfortunately, though, I cannot help you there. I come _here_ when I am avoiding my dearest little brother, you see.”

Raziel swatted his hand away in a huff, and Lucifer laughed like stars exploding, and it was _glorious._

“Yes, I see entirely too well, you great ass.”

“Tsk! Language, little shadow, I could write you up for that, you know.”

“You could,” Raz agreed amicably, drifting closer to the Tear as if tugged by some inexplicable gravity.

Because he was, really, a gravity most simply could be explained as affection, comfort, familiarity: but most succinctly, it could be summed up as Love, though the term for a love such as theirs - that is to say, a love for a person no matter _what,_ one not reserved for Creation and Light and Music - was yet to be invented.

“You could indeed, that. But you won’t, as you never have.”

“So _sure,_ Raz, it’s almost as if you know me.” he smirked.

He returned the gesture, closed the distance between them in an embrace.

“Almost, you could say.”

~~And he held the angel there with him gently, _tightly,_ because as excited as Luce was he was… cautious. He was apprehensive, and he had a bad feeling about this, though not one he could yet name, and not one he could pinpoint the origin of. But Change was brewing in the Planes of Heaven, and change, sometimes, was good. But this was about to be a storm, and Raziel Knew, because Raziel was Raziel, that it was _not_ going to be pretty. ~~

He smiled a little harder, and clung a little tighter.


	2. ORDERS

THESE HUMANS ARE TO BE IN MY IMAGE. YOU ARE NOT TO CORRUPT THEM WITH YOUR MINDS OR SPIRITS OR SOUL. YOUR FREE WILL MUST NOT BE IMPOSED UPON THEM. THEY WILL BE PERFECT, AND THEY WILL BE PERFECT WITHOUT YOU.

 

“Yes, father…”

 

KNOW THIS AS I ALREADY KNOW. YOU CANNOT SPEAK A WORD OF THIS TO ANYONE.

 

He felt the bind magic wind and grasp around his soul and his wings and his tongue, and he gasped. No sound came out - no Song of Soul or breath of body. Then, suddenly, he was released again, though he felt the power snaking just beneath his skin. 

 

Secretkeeper. Whatever this was, it was meant to be  _ Kept, _ and he was terrified.

 

“Y-yes, father…”

 

MY PROUDEST CREATION WILL SOON BECOME WICKED, AND HE WILL REBEL. THIS IS NOT MY DOING, BUT THE DOING OF YOUR KIND, WITH YOUR IMPERFECT SELVES YOU FORGED FOR YOUR OWN. MARK THIS, KEEPER OF THE WHISPERS. HE MAY OPPOSE ME, BUT HE WILL FALL. STAY AWAY, AND YOU MAY YET BE SPARED.

 

He kept silent.

 

DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME. IT IS PLANNED, MY CHILD.

 

Silent like the Nowhere that inspired God to create him and everyone else he has ever loved or seen or cherished.

 

 

YOU MUST KNOW OF THE PLAN AND RECORD IT TO THE IMPECCABLE MEMORY I GIFTED YOU WITH. NOT EVEN METATRON WILL TRANSCRIBE THESE HAPPENINGS, AND YOU MUST BE READY.

 

S i  l e    n t .    . .

 

BEG ALL YOU PLEASE. IT IS ALREADY DONE.

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

GO TO HIM NOW IF YOU MUST .

I REMEMBER YOU MORE RESILIENT, LITTLE ONE. GO TO HIM WHILE STILL YOU CAN. I SUPPOSE I CANNOT FAULT YOU FOR THAT.


	3. and doubt comes.

“We’re… not allowed to speak to them. Our - our little siblings!”

“...I Know.”

“Upon pain of - pain of something. I don’t know. They don’t want them to know about us. Either of them.”

“I Know.”

“They’ve told you?”

“...Yes.”

“...You don’t like what They have said to you.”

“...No…”

“Oh, honey, come here…”

 


	4. doubt. comes. in.

“Can I ask you a secret?”

The brightest star in Heaven’s skies trembled in Raz’s arms, terrified.

Of his next words. Of what he had to do.

“Of course.”

“Have you ever had… doubts?”

His song hummed a sombre tune and implied and painted the word over and over on Lucifer’s soul, and Raziel’s heart broke, and his soul wanted for the release of a sob, but the Binding held him true.

The word kept echoing around Lucifer's soul like it was impressed there with all the loving care of their creator.

It had been.

_Doubts, doubts, doubts…_

“...May I answer in secret?”

“Always, Raziel. Always.”

_“...Yes.”_


End file.
